OMG YES! DONE EXAMS~~~~! -throws confetti into the air- So to celebrate, I typed this up and I'm just going to leave this thing here and sleep~

Anyway, this one's the sequel (counterpart, spinoff, whatever you want to call it) to my drabble, 'My Brother Alfie'~ Check it out if you want~~ (... Nooo, I'm not shamelessly advertising... o3o)

*ahem*

So, I debated for a loooong time whether I should make this in older or younger Americas view so, I hope no one gets angry at the choice I made... And I hope I didn't ruin this fic by my choice either...

Well... Whatever. Enjoy the fic~

Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.

Yeah. So this is my first entry in my heroic journal. First of all, I guess you need some info on why this thing exists so, let me give you a short epilogue.

Today I went to visit my bro unannounced only to find that he was busy. He was cleaning out his attic which was a total bore compared to the new horror movie I wanted to watch with him. But, me being the hero and all, decided to help him out! Besides, if I worked hard enough, he would've let me sleep over and make pancakes for me in the morning!

Now, while I was expertly cleaning, I found this worn red journal which I sorta not really remember England giving him when we were colonies. England gave me one as well but, I lost it ages ago since I never had the patience to write things down. I was also surprised that this journal was in pretty good condition for its age. There must have been something important in here if this journal was kept. Like, the only reason why we were given journals in the first place was to practice English and nothing else really. So, why on Earth keep this thing?

I really wanted to read it to find out but, that would've been rude... But then again, I knew he would've been okay if I took a peek and read a few entries (Huh? Why? Because! I'm his awesome Broski! Duh!). Soooo, I expertly scanned the room and was excited to find that my bro was on the other side of the attic. When I decided that he wasn't going to look in my direction, I opened the journal, gently turned its fragile pages, and started to read.

I read many entries on broken vases or how nice his particular day was when the entry was written. The entries were filled with carefree statements like, 'Oh! Mr. Caterpillar finally turned into a butterfly today!' and other innocent lines that gave people warm fuzzy feelings inside. It was actually kinda cute to read. Not to mention the cute curly print he used to use when he wrote! Oh man! I miss the old days!~

A-anyway, I continued to read entries with a grin on my face until I reached an entry entitled, 'My Brother Alfie'. But before I could read it, I was being called away to eat an epic Canadian delicacy known as Poutine. So, I stuffed the journal into my jacket pocket and headed down to the kitchen. I decided that I had to read the journal entry in private later despite the fact that I really wanted to read it right then and there...

Now, when I came down for dinner, I was greeted with the awesome scent of greasy fries, creamy gravy and melted cheese. Just the way I like it. And the best part? The poutine tasted just as great as its smell! Thank God that he can cook like France! I wouldn't know what to do with myself if he cooked like a certain English nation that shall not be named... Anyway, at the dinner table he told me that he couldn't believe I stayed up there so long. Apparently, I was so engrossed with the journal (which he didn't know I was reading), that I didn't notice him telling me that we could put off cleaning until tomorrow and that he would make dinner. Who knew I liked reading that much? England would've been so proud.

After dinner was done and all the dishes were washed (once again, courtesy of his heroic, friendly neighbourhood American nation), he offered me his guest bedroom for me to crash in and of course I accepted. Yummy pancakes would be waiting for me in the morning so why not!~ Also, that meant I could finally read that journal entry I've been itching to read in private.

Once I changed into my hard-core Batman pj's (that I always leave at his house for the times I crash at his place), I wished my bro a good night, took Texas off, turned my lights off, and sat on my bed. I sat there until I heard soft snoring from the other side of the wall and then jumped into action. I grabbed my iPhone and the journal out of my jacket pocket and ran back to my bed. Once I was comfortable on my belly, I used my flashlight app to find that journal entry.

Then, I found it. So I read it excitedly! But, to be honest, once I finished reading it, I was a little shocked. I didn't expect those types of words to be in there... I-I just had to cry. I cried because it was so bitter-sweet for me to read. Sweet because I couldn't help but think that I have the cutest brother EVER (Take that Romano! My baby bro is waaaay cuter than yours!) and bitter because I'm stupid for not appreciating my brother more. The fact that he wrote about how he would stick with me despite my meanness killed me with the cute and sweetness... And it also made me feel like crap... I had to toss the journal onto the floor beside my bed... I needed space from that thing to cry some more.

I just don't know. The entry was written so well for someone just learning English at the time. It was full of feeling, passion and the honesty of a pure child. This... This item, that is currently laying on the floor, is a masterpiece. I should frame this thing and keep it hidden under my bed at home and snuggle with it before I go to bed. Then, I would hold on to the thing and cry bitter tears of hate for myself because I know I often mistreat the guy I call my brother. Then I would cry myself to sleep every night with that piece of art in my arms and wake up with it too... Then, I would wipe up all my dried tears from it and stuff it back under my bed only to repeat the process once night fell again (and no one was sleeping over). Sure the frame could potentially hurt me but, it would be worth it!

Dude. I'm dead serious here. I'll even hug my bro every day when I see him and never let go. Screw the other countries! They can question me all they want! Let them question my sanity! ... Which, I guess, is normal because, c'mon, who hasn't questioned my sanity yet? Even I have.

But, I don't want to take this journal away from the one who actually owns this. I also don't want the owner hating my guts by embarrassing him if I was to turn into his personal leech. So, this finally brings me to why this entry exists in the first place. In order to make things right, I will now write a little exert in this journal entry to mimic the one I cried over about an hour ago. Then I'll stuff this entire entry into the journal for the owner to find later so that they also know why this exists... So here goes...

My Brother Mattie

Mattie. It's actually one of the many names I call him.

Matthew, Canada, Mattie, Canadia.

He should know by now that I use Mattie and Canadia to dote over him but, judging by a journal entry a couple of centuries ago (which I totally didn't take), he doesn't... So I just wanted to get that out there.

Now, all those things he listed that I was to him...? His hero. His best friend. His protector. His comforter. His brother...? I just want to ask him... Do you think of me like that still? I feel like I'm unworthy of these titles if you still do...

Like, since when have I been even a decent friend? Or comforted you? Or protected you? I haven't done anything... Yet you probably still consider me those things with that semi-innocent heart of yours... (I do hear your mumblings to yourself at world meetings Mattie... You should wash your mouth with soap one of these days.)

But y'know? I'm just glad that you know I'll come running to your side in an instant as your hero. And you better believe its true. If Francey-pants ever came up to you to ask for another date just to get a kick by the way your face flushes, be assured, I'd be there to kick his Eiffel Tower. Or Artie when he wants you to eat his petrified couch stuffings, same threat goes out to his Big Ben. I'll always be your hero. And I'm glad you let me be your hero in the first place.

And I mean it.

Now, Mattie? I may be mean sometimes and forget you but, please know I'm teasing when I forget you... I really don't forget. (But my meanness... Yeah, I got nothing... I'm just naturally a jerk sometimes.). Plus, how can anyone forget your scary hockey skills that freak Ivan out. That takes skill. Like really. And. how about your awesome poutine? All we have at my place is burgers... And hotdogs... And ice cream... Oh! And-

WAIT! I'm getting off topic here!

What I want to say is... I'm just as bad with words as you are. Really, I am. Just because I talk a lot doesn't mean that they're all things of value... Like sheesh man! You should know better.

... Well, you DO know better because, you're the one who knows me best. So you should know that despite my random ramblings here, I mean much, much more. And you being you should also know that I really never do mean to hurt you and that you're the person I can always turn to. In fact...

YOU'RE my HERO. YOU'RE my protector and comforter (I think it's the appropriate time now that I finally say thank you for those nice French lullabies that you use to sing to me when I had nightmares as a colony.). And YOU will ALWAYS be my brother! Never ever ever ever EVER forget that! (Or those awesome forts we used to build as colonies... Yeah sorry off topic but, I just remembered it and I just wanted to say building those forts were some of my favorite memories with you.)

Now, you're going to find this in your journal and have a 'WTF' face on but, if you have any questions, I'll be glad to answer them...

Aaaaand, I think that's all I wanted to say. Plus my hands cramping up because I'm laying awkwardly on your guest bed... Yeah, that's it.

Your HEROIC brother,

Alfie.

(P.s- since, like I said, my hand is cramping up (So what? I prefer texting then writing things out by hand... Wipe that smirk off your face Matthew Williams! I know you have one on now!), imma write slang now. So... Y U NO CALL ME ALFIE NO MORE?! IT USED TO BE SO CUTE! I STILL CALL U MATTIE! Yyyyyyyyyyy-_~-_~-~~_-

*BANG*

The door to Alfred's room violently swung open to reveal a flustered Canadian nation clad in his rumpled white t-shirt and polar bear pajama bottoms. He had his hockey stick gripped tightly with his right hand high above his head of dishevelled hair. His usual calm, sunset violet eyes were replaced with wide and distraught purple ones that seemed to glow under his absent glasses in the dark.

"OHMYGOSH! ALFRED! ARE YOU OKAY?! I HEARD YOU SCREAMING!"

Startled by the intruder, America's pen slid across his page leaving a long black trail after his 'Yyyyyyyyy' and let out an unmanly scream only to fall off his bed bringing the journal, his bed sheets, and anything else he could grab to the floor. Scared from the high pitch sound his brother had created, Canada screamed as well but had the sense to turn the lights on to better asses the situation.

Squinting once the lights bathed the peach coloured walls, Canada was highly amused and slightly annoyed to see a hyperventilating America on the floor, buried in all the things he had taken with his fall.

"... What the hell Al! It's three in the morning! Why were you screaming?! I thought you were being attacked in your sleep or something..." Lazily resting against the door frame, Canada gave him the coldest stare he could muster in his tired state while his hockey stick rested on his shoulder. Stupid brothers will be stupid.

With his breathing rate slowing, America sat up and untangled himself from his bed sheet only to croak, "W-wha? Me? I wasn't screaming..."

Canada rolled his eyes. "Uhhhh, like, DUH! Of course you were! I'm in the room beside you remember? I mean, c'mon! Who else would yell, 'whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyy' in the middle of the night now hm?"

Whoops. He must've accidently let out that last part when he was writing passionately in his 'passion of 1000 burning suns' mode he was in. But, before America could clear things up, Canada continued.

"Oh wait. You! No one else is sleeping over! And really?! I come all the way here to see that you're all fine and dandy playing with your iPhone and writing or doodling or whatever and-"America jumped in place. Canada had seen him writing! Panicking, America did what he did best in order to avoid any trouble with Canada in case he figured out what he really was doing.

Avoid all eye contact and spew randomness in hopes that all higher beings loved him at this moment.

"W-w-w-writing?! Me?! Oh, pssssshhh! Funny joke Mattie but you should know out of all people I hate writing unless I need too because its sooooooo booooooring and hey! You must be tired because, ha haaa, I am! Phew! Like, dead tired... And um... Oh! Did I ever tell you about the time I-" Unfortunately for America, while rambling, he failed to notice Canada walking into the room, and resting his hockey stick against the wall. He also failed to notice Canada picking up and then reading Americas journal entry. Canada snickered once he finished.

America, fearing the worst, turned to Canada only to find the worst happening. America paled. He was never going to hear the end of this.

Stupid higher beings.

"Oh man!~ I didn't know~!" The Canadian laughed and waved both his old journal and Americas entry in his face to taunt him. America felt a blush crawl up his back. "Oh gosh Alfred. Now I know why you were yelling! Were you in your, 'passion of 1000 burning suns' mode?!" Canada continued to laugh and wave the items in his face. Annoyed, America snatched the items out of the hands of his torturer and growled. Mattie could be mean at times.

"Oh hey! No need to get defensive! If you just wanted to take the journal and frame it so you could hide it under your bed, you could've asked y'know." Canada cackled. Though, judging by the way America slumped and turned away, the teasing had gone a little too far. Oops. He hadn't meant to hurt America.

Canada let out a sigh and changed his tone into the softer tone he would use to soothe America after a bad dream as colonies. "Hey... I'm sorry... Please don't be upset with me..." America rejected the gentle hand Canada had tried to place on his shoulder. "Hey, seriously... I'm sorry... It's just that..." How would he put this into words? "It's just that, I really didn't expect you to write those things down... It's almost 3:30 in the morning and I was a little ticked. A-and you tend to ignore me and stuff like that but, I'm happy that we've finally cleared this up... So, um... Thank you very much." America hesitantly turned to face Canada. He was smiling and looked genuinely sorry.

"Hmp. Okay. I half way forgive you." He turned away again. "Now go back to sleep so I can silently die from my embarrassment here..." Picking himself off the floor, America slowly trudged back to his bed without his sheets. He belly flopped face first into his pillow and laid still. He was going to die cold.

"Aw, that's too bad... I can't sleep and I was going to offer you pancakes since neither of us were really going to bed anyway." Hiding his smirk, Canada proudly strode back to the door frame awaiting the expected outcome.

Americas head popped up immediately and turned towards Canada revealing puppy eyes. "P-pancakes?" he chirpped. Canada laughed. Boy, did he know his brother!

"Why yes my dear brother Alfie, but seeing as you don't want to eat pancakes and build a fort so we can eat breakfast under it in favor of dying, I'll just be on my way-"

"NOOOO!" As if magic, America flung himself at Canada and clung to his waist to cut him off. "No! Nooooo! Noooooooooo! Pancaaaaaaaaaaaakes! Fooooooooooorrrrt! Paaaaaaancaaaaaaaaakes! We muuuuuuuuuuuuust! Maaaaaaaaaatttiiiiieeeeeeeeeee! Please?" Surprised and flustered at the sudden action and mood change by the American, Canada instinctively squirmed in Americas grip to get out.

"O-okay! Okay! I'm sorry!" America stopped and looked up into Canada's eyes. Moments later, America lost his grip and fell face first into the ground because of the face Canada was making. Then they broke out into laughter. They probably looked really dumb right now for nations who were physically nineteen. Canada helped America up after they were done.

"Alright, I'll make the pancakes and you set up the fort. Deal?" Right as he was going to walk away, his leech reattached himself.

"No! Wait!"

Chuckling, Canada shot him a playful glare asking him what he needed.

Giving the best puppy face he could muster, America pouted, "Call me Alfie again and I'll agree!" He fluttered his eyelashes. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaseeee?"

Rolling his eyes, he shoved the American off himself and shouted, 'No way Alfie!' and bolted down his staircase laughing hysterically. Lying on the floor surprised at the strength that he seemed to always forget Canada had, America couldn't help but laugh hysterically too.

"I can't believe Mattie thinks he's blessed to have me when I'm blessed to have him." He stared happily up at the ceiling. "Thank you higher beings... I guess you aren't stupid." But, his thoughts were cut short when Canada's voice floated through the air.

"Alfie? Could you bring Quebec when you come down? I forgot to bring Quebec with me. And hurry up so you can build the fort or we won't have an 'awesome' fort breakfast today! Oh, and don't forget Texas either! I know you'll forget!"

Picking himself up and grabbing their glasses, America enjoyed the many calls of, 'Alfiiiiieeee!' that whisked him away into another awesome day that would be spent with his hero, best friend, protector, comforter and most importantly, brother.

~Maple Syrup-tard

Whoa. I didn't expect this to be so long... I hope you guys enjoyed this and I hope I didn't screw this up...

Thank you for reading~